Underneath the Layers of Love Shields Pure Evil
by AnnaChase
Summary: My version of how Eve was brought into the world. The story of her mother told through letters in a diary to her unborn baby. All reviews are welcome and will help me write more!
1. 23th of September 1977

**Underneath the Layers of Love Shields Pure Evil: Diary of a Mother**

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**My dear Baby, 23th of September 1977**

We're taking off on a very long journey, you and me. I'm afraid to say that I can't predict what the outcome is going to be. Wherever this path chooses to take us, remember that above all these people who say they are something they really aren't, you have a mother who loves you more than anything. My future's unclear, and so is yours. I hope one day you will find this diary and read it, because then you will know about the life of me, your loving mother. My name is Amy Forrester, and this is my story.

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That was real short, but it was just an introduction. The rest will be much longer, of course. Please review? I'd love to hear your thoughts and stuff about this, it might encourage me to write much much more! xoxox - Anna Chase


	2. 24th of September 1977

**Dear Baby, 24th of September 1977**

Love can be the best thing in the world, it can pick you up and show you the way the sun sparkles on the clean, beautiful lakes in the park. It can make life worth living for, but love can also destroy you and scar you deep inside your heart, like it did to me. Remember to never trust someone blindly. When you're about to be tempted by kind gestures and sweet words, think of your mother who fell for the same above mentioned things, and lost her life in it. Keep your heart to yourself, for you're the only person it was meant for. Be aware that underneath the sweet layers of love can shield pure evil.

It is now time for you to learn more about the way you were brought into this world. I hope you can find trust in this words written down here, because they are the only way my long-forgotten and faded image can live on. Don't listen to the people who say my story is a simple tale. It is as true and real as the diary you're holding now, my love. Don't let my possibly shocking words scare you; I've pulled through our journey with the purpose of life. Giving life to you, and hoping that once you'll find someone to guide you on the right path, for I am sure the right path isn't where the people around you would like you to be. It won't be me, I'll be long gone the moment you're old enough to understand that you weren't always that prophecy child, or whatever they call it. Once you were just my baby.

It all started, as most young women's tragic stories do, with a man. The man you undoubtedly now know as your father; Daniel Marquette. The first ignorant weeks we spent together were like paradise. He was the man every girl dreamed of having; he was kind, sincere, and appreciated and respected every single part of me. He gave me presents on ever occasion, and not 'just' presents. When my friends got flowers, cheap perfume (eau de toilette) or simple necklaces from their lovers, mine gave me bouquets of 20 deep red roses for my 20th birthday, Chanel perfume, and real diamonds. I was genuinely happy, but should have foreseen the fact that there was a snag in all this perfection. You see, I don't know about it now, but when your father and I met he had just been promoted to the job of "Junior Partner" at the widely feared law firm that goes by the name of "Wolfram and Hart". I don't know a lot about what he does there, but I know it's often illegal, and I also know that I don't want to know more about it. I wish I had been smarter then, though. Maybe if I had known more about your father's true colours I wouldn't be in this position right now.

Daniel treated me very well; I was his everything, and he was mine. In my silly girl's dreams I could already see us married, with a happy family. I sure got a step closer to the family, indeed. I got pregnant. When I did this discovery I was only 20 years old, still in University, so you understand at first it was quite a shock. I was afraid to tell my parents, so the first thing I did was run over to Daniel, for I figured he would be the only one that would understand and support me. Well, he did. At first. We shared many hours talking together about the future of our perfect little family. He told me I was beautiful, and that you, our baby, would be too. On a certain morning, two weeks ago now, he asked me to come over to his office here at Wolfram& Hart. I didn't want to refuse him anything, so I went. I thought he wanted to give me something, or maybe wanted to discuss some things. The opposite was true. I met the real Daniel that morning, and I still wish I hadn't. Once I was in his office I was captured by three security guards. I screamed and cried, and pleaded for him to tell them to let go of me. He didn't. All Daniel said was that our baby was special. So special that it had a certain purpose here at Wolfram & Hart, so they couldn't risk anything. That was why I had to stay here, till the baby was born. What would happen after that, he didn't say. But I know what will happen. I maybe young, and perhaps a bit naïve, but I'm not stupid. The security guards dragged me downstairs to this cellar and put me in some cold cell. I've been horribly scared ever since and still hope for an escape. Your father comes to bring me meals three times a day, he says I'm eating for two now. If I wasn't such a well-raised girl I would've thrown it at his face. Maybe this is immature, but what he did is not fair.

So, my sweet baby, be aware of the dangers shielding underneath all those layers of love. Listen to your heart; it will always speak the truth.

_Your loving mother_

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Thanks for those who have reviewed the previous chapter. keep them coming, I love it! 


	3. 27th of September 1977

**Dear Baby, 27th of September 1977**

These are dark times; I'm locked up here in this cell, and the only thing to look forward to is my death, for only then this misery will end. I've heard them talk about me, the guards told each other that after your birth I'll be even more trouble, so they'll "get rid of me". I'm not afraid of death, I simply do not want to die, for there is so much I would like to see, do, and experience. I would like to see you grow up, and watch you become the wonderful person you're no doubt going to be. So like I said; these are dark times, but in the middle of that, I feel life. I felt you kick for the first time today, and it was so great, I realised I was not alone. I'm three months along now in the pregnancy, and you're growing bigger every day. I want you to be born, but on the other hand I don't, for your birth will mean my death. Maybe I should not yet worry about this, it's still six months away, but I have nothing else to do, except distract myself with this pen, and pieces of paper.

As I'm entering my second trimester, fall's arriving. I can tell by the way the guards, and the few people I see around me are changing into warmer clothes. Their hair is slightly messed up by the playful, stronger wind. That same wind used to play with my hair too. When I was younger I hated the way my curls were blown into my face so I had to tie them into a ponytail, which according to me looked awful on me, but as the years passed I learned to love the autumn wind. It's a sign of birth, the new birth of the seasons after the dry Californian summers. I loved the golden brown colours of the leaves, and the way the fresh air smelled in the forest. Will I ever see those colours, or smell that smell again? I'm afraid not, but I hope you will. I want you to do everything that I can't anymore. Enjoy life; see, hear, and smell every beautiful thing around you, and love it. Love it like you would love me, my dear. I will pass my life on to nature, and I hope that you will recognize my voice in the singing of the birds, and see my appearance in a whirlwind of autumn leaves, and my reflection in the sea. Don't ever take anything in life for granted, remember that. I did, and now it's too late. I wish I could see the sea or the forest I used to go to one more time, but it's too late now. So once again, learn to love your surroundings, they bring you much more joy than the people who in the end are only selfish. Take care,

_Your Mother _

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**Author's Note**: Thank you AJeff, Imzadi, MagicallyYours, and Poisonchik88 for reviewing and supporting me so far! I love reviews and I always try to use critics and tips to improve my writing skills, which definately need to develop a lot more. You all bring me one more step in the right direction of posting truly good stories. So, thanks again and to you and everyone else: keep the reviews coming! ;)


	4. 18th of November 1977

**Dear Baby, 18th of November 1977**

I didn't get a chance to write to you again any sooner, I'm sorry. I can almost hear you wonder why on earth I couldn't find a free moment in my boring days spent in a cell alone with absolutely nothing to do, but you'd be surprised. Daniel shows up twice a day to take me upstairs so I can fresh up, use the toilet, etc. The meals I receive three times a day from the guards or "minions" from your father I consider room service, for in my imagination it has real taste. Of course in reality it's barely enough to feed the two of us. I'm sure that if it weren't doctor's order I'd be in here all day without the fresh up and meal-privileges. I would've been long dead, then. Besides that, I've found it rather amusing to start talking to the guard. There are 4 who change shifts every 8 hours; Bob, Joe, Tim and Nicholas. Tim is the most talkative one, I think the others are afraid that they will get fired or killed if someone catches them talking to the 'prisoner'. It must a boring, endlessness existence for them, standing guard in front of a cell for 8 hours, I wonder if they think holding on to this will get them higher up on the career ladder eventually. Daniel probably made them some beautiful promises, like he did to me once. Perhaps for these boys he will keep his word.  
Joe is the least fun to talk to, so I've noticed. He told Daniel and his colleague Christina that I was annoying and had plans of escape with Nicholas, my alley according to him. Perhaps this was a little true, but I don't see why they had to overreact so severely. Nicholas got fired immediately, or killed, but I wish not to think of that possibility, and I spent the following month tied up and gagged in here, only to be freed during the scarce minutes in which Daniel brought me 'room service.' So that was another reason why I couldn't write you more often, it doesn't go well with ropes around your wrists.

So that's what I've been doing so far. Perhaps you wonder what your father is like now when he is with me. You'll hope he is feeling guilty, but I'm afraid I haven't noticed the slightest bit of guilt in his eyes. He seems rather pleased with himself, I imagine his boss has given him an impressive pay rise because he has set up such a smart plan. I don't really care, I only feel pity for the way his soul is so obviously rotten. Sometimes he tries to talk to me, especially the days he had to feed me because my hands were tied up. I wouldn't respond, though. I'm better than him, and I know it. I think if I didn't have the imagination and vivid fantasies I have always had I wouldn't be here anymore. I live in my dreams, I'm doing anything besides being a prisoner in a dark basement cell in my fantasies, and that's what keeps me going. If I didn't have such a creative mind I might have tried to kill myself already, one way or another. I might not have succeeded, because the guards are , unfortunately, good at what they do, but I would have tried, as an act of despair. Luckily I'm not like that. In my most recent day dream I was walking along the beach with you, my gorgeous baby girl. You're a girl in my dreams, and I'm sure you will be in reality too. My mother instincts just tell me that. Tomorrow Dr. Former, the gynaecologist will stop by again, perhaps he will confirm my suspicions. I hate Dr. Former, he's just like everyone else at Wolfram & Hart; sneaky and evil. His hands are ice cold when they examine me, and Daniel's always watching when I squirm and cry in pain and fear. He has never done anything to attempt to make me feel better the slightest bit. Not that he would have succeeded, but he could have tried. But then again, your father was never one to enrol in a lost case like comforting one who is already unable to feel better.

_Your loving mother, Amy_

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**Author's note**: Please review, they light up my heart! 


	5. 24th of December 1977

**Author's Note:** Here's another chapter!! Thank you Gigi13 and MagicallyYours for reviewing the previous chapter, I'm very grateful! Keep the reviews coming, pleaase. xoxox. AnnaChase.

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**Dear Baby, 24th of December 1977**

It's Christmas Eve, a time of joy, friends and family. You might have noticed the tone of my letters getting slightly less optimistic, I can't help it. I'm six months along now, and showing quite a lot. You're such a sweet baby, you sleep a lot but when you're awake it feels like you try to comfort me. The bigger you grow, the closer to my death I am, and that's a slightly depressing thought. I still have three more months to go here, but the days get worse and worse all the time. Especially on nights like these, Christmas Eve, I feel alone. I wish there was someone to talk to, even my annoying sister Liz would be good. Months ago I wished her gone after she stole my expensive nail polish, but now I miss her. I wonder if she misses me too, or is she too busy with one of her new boyfriends to do so? Strange to think that outside this cell life goes on without me. I bet mom and dad are looking for me. Perhaps they think I ran off with Daniel because they didn't approve of our relationship. They said your father was too old for me, while he was only 10 years older. I know relationships that have a lot more age difference and still go well. Mine didn't, of course, but still now I don't want my parents to be right. I loved Daniel with my whole heart, and it hurt me that they didn't trust him, even though they were right.

Daniel brought me my dinner earlier tonight, he even added a chocolate bar to it, like he could read my mind and knew that was exactly what I was longing for. Of course I didn't eat it, I wouldn't take anything from him. Not anymore. I bet he was so pleased with himself about sacrificing a few minutes of his precious Christmas Eve to be with the poor imprisoned girl instead of going to the Wolfram & Hart Christmas party. He probably thought he was doing such a good deed. He looked 'so' arrogant. At first I wasn't going to eat the rest of my dinner either, but I could sense that you were hungry so I set aside my pride and ate it. Your father talked to me as if I were a baby. He said it would be all right, it would be over soon. I can't help but wonder if he's saying this to: a) test his acting skills, b) try to ease his hopefully nagging conscience, or c) truly feels sorry for me. Probably a or b, maybe a combination, but definitely not c, because after a lot of pondering I decided it would be easiest to just think he doesn't have a heart. Why else would he be able to continue this, you're his child too, after all. I know you will be mad at him once reading all these letters, but remember that he probably couldn't help himself. Your father is stuck in a world of heartlessness; I assume he couldn't help but to lose his own, too. Anyway, I just ignored him as he talked to me about how pretty the Christmas tree was. It was decorated with pure gold. It sure sounded good, but at that moment I didn't understand why he was telling me about it, after all he would take me upstairs so I could clean myself a bit and use the toilet after I finished my dinner, and then I could see the Christmas tree. He did that every night, and morning too. I decided to ask him. He replied that I wouldn't be seeing it tonight because he couldn't take me upstairs while the party was going on. That truly saddened me, I had been looking forward to seeing the Christmas tree all day, it was the only thing that would assure me Christmas truly was happening and the world was still going on without me. I almost cried, but I wouldn't give Daniel that pleasure. I remained strong and cried inside my soul, where he couldn't look. He told me that this was better for me, and that he would come to get me for my little walk after the party ended. Which could of course be really late, but he failed to mention that. Of course he did, he always tried to make himself sound like a perfect man, who would do anything for those poorer or weaker than him. He even donated 10 of his damn six figure salary to charity. So yes, perhaps to anyone else he would seem like a good man; handsome, gentle, rich and successful. But he really isn't. The point is, he does all of this to make himself look good, and I don't think that's honest or good at all. Please darling, if you're once alone on a Christmas Eve and you've read this, think of your mother and remember that it can always be worse. Take care of yourself.

_Your loving mother_


	6. 31st of December 1977

**Author's Note:** Thank you **MagicallyYours **and **Imzadi **for sending such great reviews! As you can see, they have encouraged me to write the next chapter rather soon. Enjoy, and don't forget to review! wink xoxox AnnaChase

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Dear Baby, 31st of December 1977**

It's 11 o'clock, New Year's Eve, and this morning, ironically, my watch stopped ticking. After all those other things that have been taken away from me, like freedom, love and family, I now also no longer have notion of time. There are no windows here, so I'll only be able to know approximately what time it is when Daniel comes to bring me a meal or takes me upstairs. This bothers me. Before, when I was frightened or just had nothing to do in my empty cell I'd lay down on my mattress in the corner and listen to the soothing sound of my watch ticking. I won't hear that anymore now. Of course I could ask Daniel to bring me a new one, or get him to replace the battery, but I'm not able to ask him anything. To be honest, I'm hardly able to look at your father now. I feel so humiliated, and naïve, and I wonder, why couldn't I have been more mature, or wise, or own any other characteristic that would have made me see your father's true colours before it was too late? I can't turn back time, and I can't stop time either. There's nothing to be done about how naïve I was now, I'm dealing with the consequences for the rest of my life. The rest of my life, as a part of these consequences, is only less than 3 more months, unfortunately. His words have always sounded sincere and honest, and his kisses felt true and full of love. The nights we made love were great too. He'd make me feel the happiest girl on earth, and he'd whisper things in my ear that made me blush. To me these nights resembled heaven, and perhaps they did, but not the way I then thought. You are heavenly, my darling, and you're the one good thing Daniel has given to me. I still haven't decided whether he was just such a good actor, making me believe his promising words, or was a part of these feelings I'd swear came from both of us real? Was I the chosen one, to bring you into this world? Or did they find out about your potential when you were already inside of me? If the latter is true, did Daniel really love me, and if he did how could he so suddenly change the warm colours of his heart to something so ice cold? I cannot understand any of these things, and I probably never will, so I will just stick with my first theory; Daniel has always used me in order to create you. I should not keep pondering over other possibilities, for they will always remain a mystery to me.

I spent Christmas with Joe and Charlie, the new guard. After Nicholas Wolfram & Hart certainly made sure to put the most heartless ones in front of my cell, for Charlie seems even grumpier than Joe. Perhaps he is just scared to end up like Nicholas, I can't blame him for it. Anyhow, I didn't have a lot of company during Christmas, so I started thinking of a name for you. The doctor has indeed confirmed my suspicions that you are a girl, so I don't have to think of any boys names. I doubt I'll be able to name you, but I can only hope that Daniel will once read these letters and not only feel guilt over his deeds, but perhaps also like one of the names I have in mind. There are so many different kinds of names; short names like mine, long names, classical names, biblical names, or noun-names like hippie-parents often use. I have once even met a girl named Ice! I do want you to have a special name, but I'd rather give you a slightly more normal name than "Ice" or "Cinnamon". Not that I don't find these names pretty, but I doubt you would like to be named after an ice cube or a herb. I've been thinking of Celeste, that means heavenly, and that to me you are. Another name I very much like is Melody. I've always loved music, and when I played the piano, which I have done for over 10 years, I seemed to be in a different world. I want you to have a meaningful name, that will tell people immediately about your beautiful character you no doubt will have. Charlotte, Emily, Isabelle, or perhaps something simple but charming like Anne. You can tell I have not yet made a decision, but I will. I promise you in my next letter you will have a name. I'm not sure if you will carry the name I am going to pick for you, but at least in my heart you will. In my heart, wherever it will go to after my death, you will live. Always.

_Your loving mother_


	7. 4th of February 1978

**Author's Note: **Thank you AJeff and Imzadi ( you were right, by the way, about Cinnamon) for continueing to review my fic! I'm glad you like it. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, and everyone else of course. Cheers. Xoxo AnnaChase

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Dear Eve, 4th of February 1978 **

After a lot of doubting and pondering, you can see that I have finally chosen a name that I think suits you the best. I have chosen Eve, for Eve means life. I want you to have the life I no longer will have after you are born. I want you to lead my life; do the things I can no longer do. Enjoy the small things, respect the great ones. On top of all things, respect yourself, for you are the person you're going to have to spend your life with.

Today is my birthday. I am now 21 years old. How different this birthday is from all my others, and especially from my 20th birthday last year. Last year's was so cheerful, so great. Your father had stayed over the night before, and he'd gotten up very early to make me breakfast. Pancakes, the food I now so desperately crave for. He also gave me the roses and perfume I've previously told me about, but it wasn't about the gifts. I considered him my first real boyfriend, who really, really loved me. How wrong was I then… I couldn't have foreseen a year ago that my next birthday would be spent in a cell in the basement of an evil law firm, and that I would have less than 2 months to live.

This morning instead of Daniel his colleague Christina, who mostly resembles a Barbie doll with too much make-up and expensive clothes, came to get me for my 'morning fresh up 15 minutes'. Now, I must tell you she is not exactly good company. She looks at me like I am the most horrible thing she's ever seen, and I wonder why. Because I carry life inside of me? Or simply because I got closer to the man she wants than she ever will? I'm not curious to find out, but the thought just crossed my so bored mind. Christina hardly ever speaks to me, and when she does it's because of a necessity. It's never in a kind way, though. Of course she waited outside as I took a shower that lasted for only 5 minutes before the water turned ice-cold. I'm sure they set this matter purposely, to annoy me. I keep longing for a hot shower that lasts at least 30 minutes, the kinds I used to take at home when I was sad. Daniel always stayed in the small bathroom. His excuse was that he wasn't allowed to leave me alone, but how could I have possibly escaped in a small room that only had a tiny window I would never fit through, not even if I wasn't pregnant? He was probably just like other men in that. It was refreshing to, for once, not be in his company up here. Christina may not be nice, but I didn't hate her like Daniel. She didn't betray me, after all, she was just doing her job.

The date that I will give birth to you is coming closer and closer every day, it terrifies me now. I dream about it at night. I have nightmares about Daniel killing me and wake up screaming often. All the guards do it throw me an annoyed glance that lets me know I'm disturbing their job; staring at the door of my cell and making sure it doesn't open. Any other noise coming from me is not wanted nor appreciated. My due date is March 21st, and that will also be the day of my death. In 2 months time I will no longer be here. I keep praying to God to perform a miracle, do anything to stop this horrible day from arriving. I've always believed in God, I was raised in a Christian family, and I believe everything happens for a reason. If He wants me to die, I will die, and I comfort myself with the thought of heaven, whatever that will be. I'm sure it will be better than spending my days here, terrified, dark, and also very bored. It will also be a blessing for me when these days are 'finally' over. I'm not sure how long my mind will be able to take it, being here without going insane. Not long, I presume, considering the fact I've again spent some weeks tied up on my bed here because Christina didn't like the fact I 'whined' about new clothes because the ones I'm now wearing (they gave them to me a month ago) are getting too tight. I only asked once, but the guards just give her her way and Daniel simply throws me pitiful glances.

Sometimes I feel like a paper flower; captured in a world I don't belong. My life here the past few months has been very unnatural and wrong, a part of me now looks forward to it ending. Please understand your mother's silly thoughts and don't think of me as a coward; I have tried everything to escape, but sometimes it's just too late.

_Your loving mother _


	8. 23th of March 1978

**Dear Eve, 23th of March 1978,**

You're coming; I'm two days over time, and the contractions have started. They're still very far apart, fortunately, so that's given me the time to write this. As soon as the first contraction hit me the guard called Daniel who immediately came downstairs. It was then I forever left this cell behind me. Ironic, the whole time when I was here I longed to leave this cell behind me forever, and now when I'm about to I'm so terrified of what's going to happen that I'd rather spend another 6 months here, postponing the reality of me going to die.

I had an actual talk with your father two days ago. I've made the decision of not being mad at him anymore; what's the use? He was probably just doing his job, and anger isn't going to save my life. I know in the end he 'will' be punished for this, one way or another. I comfort myself with that thought. I told him about the letters I wrote to you, and he promised me he would do everything he could to make sure you got those letters, once you're old enough to read them. Of course I'm aware that this might be another of the lies he's so good at, but believe me, when you're about to be murdered you're willing to believe almost every nice word that comes to you.

I can't help but continue to wonder if things could have been different. I believe it was Shakespeare who first said: "Love is blind", and never before has a saying been so true, for love _is _blind. In very seldom cases love cures and enlightens, but mostly love just hurts, aches, devastates, or kills. The latter, in my case. My love for your father will literally kill me in a few hours. The only comforting thought it that this all has a reason; you. I hope one day you will realise, no matter how you were raised, that there is something else, something better, besides evil. And I hope you will find that.

I can feel another contraction coming up; it won't be long now till the doctor comes to examine me again. My last hours in this world have started. My darling baby, the end of our journey together is near, but yours is only just beginning. I don't know who you're going to be, what you will look like, or how you will fill in the blank page that is your life, but one thing is for sure; remember that no matter who you are, your mother has loved you.

_Yours truly,_

_Your loving mother, Amy_

26 years later Eve walked through the halls of Wolfram& Hart, the ones her mother had, for 6 months, walked every day in the little time she was allowed out of her cell. Eve had no knowledge of this, nor did she know anything of her past before the day she became the liaison to the Senior Partners. They must have erased her memory. She knew nothing about her father, or her mother, she didn't even know if she'd ever had one, but sometimes when she past a certain room in the building, she got a certain feeling. It was always near that certain room. It felt like a spirit. Maybe someone whom she knew in her youth had died there, Eve sometimes thought. Someone close to her. Someone who loved her.

The End

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**Author's Note: **That was it! Thank you all my wonderful reviewers, don't forget to review this chapter too, pleaase. Thanks already! I hope you liked, and I hope the end made sense.


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